


I'll Take A Corset Of Your Words, Tie Them Up And Bind Them

by allisonmartined



Category: The Killing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 06:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/427961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allisonmartined/pseuds/allisonmartined
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Trust, trust, trust. He can never escape that word.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>through 2x08, for good measure</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Take A Corset Of Your Words, Tie Them Up And Bind Them

He never met Rosie Larsen. Never spoke with her, never laughed with her, but somehow she covers all of him and he can't understand it.

 

Before.

 

It's hard to explain the drugs to people who don't understand. It's like they think it's this three step process. Do drugs. Get hooked. Get clean. But it's less of a process than a complete diving off a cliff into an abyss sort of idea. _It was the job_ is the mantra that haunts his head. His voice curls over the words like a familiar blanket. But no. It wasn't the job, wasn't the job, _wasn't the job_. It was _him_. He knows that now. He can piece his actions together and realize what they mean. But he doesn't. All he can face was that it was him, his fault. _Being a cop doesn't make you an addict_ , he breathes. He almost believes it this time.

 

Sometimes he wonders if that is what Linden is. An addict. He would never say it out loud. She would kill him before he had time to explain. His words have a way of jumping out of his throat before he can form them. But he keeps these words trapped in a box at the back of his throat. She's addicted to the puzzle, he can see it in her eyes. _It doesn't make sense,_ she says and he nods.

 

After.

 

When they find Rosie's body, curled up and vacant, the wind rushes out of his body and he can feel the twitch at the end of his fingers. He watches as Linden talks to Stan Larsen. She's calm, too calm, and he wants to break her barrier. Violently, watch it tumble down. Instead he watches.

 

Rosie Larsen is in his blood now. He can't explain it. Just like he can't explain how Sarah Linden is wrapped up in his mind. How all his thoughts swirl around her, like a center that shouldn't be there.

 

She doesn't trust him, but she does. And he doesn't understand that either. She shouldn't trust him, maybe. He's not sure if even _he_ trusts him. But that little bit of trust is an anchor and it holds him there, makes him feel solid. Makes him feel _real_ , and God knows he hasn't felt that way in ages.

 

He clutches the box with Rosie's backpack in it, the RL glittering at him and he thinks it feels like a smile. _You're a white hat, Stephen Holder_ , he swears he hears Rosie say.

 

Linden's words clench around him, the few she says, and he can sense the anger in them, knows it's there.

 

_I guess I trusted the wrong guy._

 

Trust, trust, trust.

 

He can never escape that word; he is always trusting the wrong people or the right people are trusting him. He doesn't even know what's worse anymore. Except he does. Those moments in the hallway where she blocked him out, locked him out. That was worse. That was worse than everything.

 

 _Linden_ , he says lightly, but the whole world clings to those syllables. She quirks her lips into a quick smile and he lets out a breath.

 

The last kick he feels is one to his abdomen. He feels a crack, a pain shoot through his entire body until he feels nothing. _You're a white hat, Stephen Holder._ It's Linden's voice, smug in his ear.


End file.
